This post is part of a series of articles that reflect on nicotine induced dreams. During 2012 whilst attempting to quit smoking, I was using patches as part of a Nicotine Replacement Therapy program. I became very aware of heightened recall of dreams I experienced whilst wearing a nicotine patch and began to document them accordingly. This is one such dream.
25mg patch.
I was at my Mum and Dawns house with Terry sat on the settee; Terry does not speak to my Mum and hasn’t in a while. Mark is there too, my sisters fiance, again someone who does not speak to my Mum or Dawn. Anyway, Mark and Dawn go upstairs, so Mark can cut Dawns hair; there is a momentary pause, and they both reappear through the living room door. Dawn has had her hair cut, skinhead on top, with it still long at the sides; they are both laughing hysterically, and as a result me, Terry and Mum also start laughing confused at the situation. What the fuck?
25mg patch.
I was at my Mum and Dawns house with Terry sat on the settee; Terry does not speak to my Mum and hasn’t in a while. Mark is there too, my sisters fiance, again someone who does not speak to my Mum or Dawn. Anyway, Mark and Dawn go upstairs, so Mark can cut Dawns hair; there is a momentary pause, and they both reappear through the living room door. Dawn has had her hair cut, skinhead on top, with it still long at the sides; they are both laughing hysterically, and as a result me, Terry and Mum also start laughing confused at the situation. What the fuck?
Dawn goes into the kitchen to make a drink, gets a small stool and puts a beaker on it and starts farting into the beaker (don’t ask)!? Terry announces he needs to leave because of working the next day, and I agree that I think I will leave too; I am aware of the time, it’s 3pm though I don’t know the relevance. We both walk outside, but then I go back in because I realise I haven’t said goodbye to anyone; I sit back down and seemingly forget that Terry is waiting in the car.
Suddenly I’m walking through a hallway that I acknowledge as home, although it is alien to me. I enter a brightly lit lounge, and I find Steph Hand unconscious on a sofa; she is absolutely plastered. I lift her gently off the sofa and carry her out into the street, I don’t know why? I am walking down the street with Steph in my arms, and she is waking up. She looks up at me and asks what is going on, to which I reply that I thought she was going home and coming back because she had to go work. She says that she ended up out drinking with her friends and I explain she was passed out hammered on my sofa. I continue carrying her down the street, down a slight bank, and all the house have my name as the property name; “BEN SCOTT”.
Next thing I know I am walking into Kirsty’s house; my ex fiancee. Kirsty begins telling me that her Kaz (her Mum), and Peter Teague have been editing photographs of me and renaming the files so that my name as offensive things.
I enter a bar holding a load of paperwork, and my leather wallet and join my younger sister Samantha, and my older sister Stacey at a large round table. I am trying to make sense of the paperwork, and am explaining it to Stacey, but Samantha keeps talking over me finishing my sentences with stupid suggestions which is really infuriating me. The paperwork holds some relevance to my tenancy for my house, and I am convinced it is an eviction notice for some reason?
I get up from the table and walk to the toilets leaving the paperwork and my wallet there, which is something I’d never do. It dawns on me in the dream that I have left my wallet behind, but I have my other Diesel wallet in my pocket? I hurry back to the bar area, bumping into Lizzy Jones and Leanne Phillips on the way, but just offer passing acknowledgement since I’m in a hurry. I get back near the table, and Ryan Wilson is there talking to a stranger holding my wallet asking if he wants a drink of vodka, indictating he will pay with my money. I reach for my wallet but Ryan pulls away and I catch hold of his little finger; I bend it back and wrest the wallet from him. I check to make sure that all my money is in there and there is around £80, although a single £5 is rolled up which I am conscious to keep secret.
I get back to the table and JB is now there too; there is a plate of waffles, chicken nuggets and beans where I was sat, and my sister Stacey advises me that someone has paid for it with my debit card for a joke so I will need to send it back and get my money back. A pretty blonde waitress appears and offers me £3.80 although the menu says the meal only costs £3. I query the difference in price and the waitress says that the price goes up at times of the day, so because it costs more now than when it was ordered I get a higher refund? Huh? Stacey starts eating some of the food off the plate, even though I’ve had a refund.
And then I awaken.
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